Page 90 of My Family

I grab a fistful of his hair, just enough to guide him, and he moans around me like that's what he wanted all along. He picks up the pace, messy and eager, and I know I won't last.

Not with him.

Not like this.

He pulls off at the last second, using both hands now, mouth open and panting, and I come hard across his tongue and lips. He lets it sit there for a second, eyes never leaving mine, before licking his lips and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

Then he collapses beside me, both of us breathing like we just ran a marathon.

For a minute, neither of us says anything.

Eventually, Liam rolls over and presses his face into my chest, arms around my waist. I hold him, stroking his hair, feeling the thump of his heart against my ribs.

"Still nervous about tomorrow?" I ask.

We both laugh.

I'm still catching my breath when Liam slides off the bed and pads barefoot into the bathroom. I hear the ancient faucet cough itself on, a metallic clatter as he fiddles with the knobs.

Steam starts to snake out through the open door.

He comes back with a huge grin.

"You know the bath here is, like, the size of a cereal bowl, right?" I ask, propping myself up on one elbow.

"I'm small. We'll fit."

I snort.

I follow him.

The tub is filling fast, water clouded slightly with whatever ancient minerals are in the pipes. Liam gets the little shampoo bottles and squeezes them into the water, and soon enough bubbles start covering the surface.

Liam steps in, hissing at the heat, then sits and hugs his knees.

I climb in behind him, legs bracketing his body, and the water sloshes over the rim.

There's barely enough room to breathe, but he settles back against me anyway, boneless and warm.

For a minute, we just soak, the only sounds the drip of the faucet and our breathing.

He leans his head back onto my shoulder, hair wet and heavy.

"Is this what people do? Like, normal couples?"

"Probably not in a bathtub designed for hobbits."

He laughs.

I start washing his hair, and he closes his eyes, humming.

I rinse him off, careful not to get soap in his eyes, and he makes a noise like a cat, content and sleepy. We sit like that until the water cools.

He leans into me, arms wrapped around my thighs, and I rest my chin on the crown of his head. I could stay here forever. Cramped and pruney and stupidly happy.

Eventually, he says, "I don't want to go back."

I know he doesn't mean just the room. I run my thumb along the sharp edge of his jaw, stubble catching against my skin.